


Press Start To Add Second Player

by fideliant



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fideliant/pseuds/fideliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know bowling on your own is also a thing, right?” John asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Press Start To Add Second Player

**Author's Note:**

> For [Kayla](http://gavinlestrade.tumblr.com), in response to [this](http://gavinlestrade.tumblr.com/post/85466163798/) text post. All the Wii-points in the world to [Sofia](http://provocatrixx.tumblr.com) for helping me fact-check this one on such short notice and, as always, being all-round lovely in general.
> 
> Initially posted on [Tumblr](http://fideliant.tumblr.com/post/85580184382), now cleaned up and cross-posted here.

John returns from the store, arms laden with groceries, and enters the flat to discover one Sherlock Holmes waving what appears to be, on first sight, a remote control at their television.

“You’re up early,” John remarks, moving into the kitchen without a second look at Sherlock. He sets his purchases on the counter and starts unpacking, attending to cold items first. “Thought you’d still be in bed after last night.”

“Three hours and twenty-six minutes,” he hears Sherlock drawl from the living room. “A luxury at best and a horrid waste of time in the most absolute of terms. Sleep is for the insipid. Not very much like yourself, of course.”

“Cheers, Sherlock, mate.” John slides the minced beef into the freezer, giving the iced-over ears in the corner a wide berth, and returns to sorting out the rest of their food. He puts one bottle of milk in the fridge and sets another out next to the small laboratory Sherlock maintains on their dining table; never let it be said he hasn’t learned how to accommodate some of his flatmate’s many vices, bacteria-riddled as they may come. “So you figured out who killed the bank teller, then?”

“Caretaker. Joint heist gone bad. I’ve already phoned Lestrade. They should be wrapping it up right about now.” This string of facts is punctuated, funnily enough, by a noise that almost sounds like an overly-enthused crowd cheering.

Curious, John leans back from the larder, tin of beans in hand, and cranes his neck to peer into the living room. It becomes obvious soon enough that it’s not a programme Sherlock’s absorbed in, and neither is the object in his hand the television remote. The on-screen picture is that of some bowling game, whereas the device Sherlock’s holding is white and sleeker and secured to his wrist with a strap that stops it from flying out of his grasp every time he gives it a brandish. Then, John’s eyes fall on the machine that's plugged into the front of their television via a cable. “Hang on a moment…Sherlock, is that a Wii you’ve got there?”

“Well-deduced, John.” Sherlock grunts, moving his arm swiftly to flick the controller in an upwards arc. The on-screen avatar mimics his movement, but the throw leaves a number of pins standing in the lane, to Sherlock’s clear annoyance.

John raises an eyebrow. “Since when did we own a Wii?”

Tap, tap, tap goes the buttons on the controller. Sherlock’s avatar inches several spaces to the left, then a hair back to the right. “Since Mycroft decided he had no further use for it.”

“This was Mycroft’s?”

“You know full well I dislike repeating myself.” Another wind-up, and Sherlock bowls over the remaining pins to more cheering and a flashing SPARE.

John considers the notification for a moment, then glances at Sherlock, who seems more pleased about this achievement rather than the fact that he’s only just put paid to a three-month old case and scored off the entirety of Scotland Yard in the process. He abandons the rest of the groceries and goes to hover next to Sherlock, still clutching the beans, and just looks on, mystified.

Because sight of all sights: certifiable genius and part-time human, Sherlock Holmes in his favourite dressing gown, playing a game of Wii bowling. And visibly enjoying himself.

As the in-game avatar re-materialises to begin the next frame, bowling ball held aloft, John can’t keep back a smile. “Hey, that’s you,” he says with a chuckle.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Do try to keep up, John.”

“I mean it looks like you,” John adds hastily. Despite the caricaturisation and weirdly oblong features, the avatar wielding the bowling ball is clearly Sherlock, complete with a white shirt and dark curls and heavily accented cheekbones. Furrowed eyebrows and a grin make for a confident, if endearingly cartoonish, expression that vaguely manages to resemble the actual thing. “How did you get it like that?”

“Customisable character function,” Sherlock explains with a lazy flick of his wrist. This time, the ball careens down the centre of the lane and knocks down all of the pins, which is rewarded with a STRIKE notification and a slow-motion replay. “The console was designed to allow players to create and design avatars for personal use. They stop at nothing nowadays, these game developers.”

“Okay.” John watches Sherlock — Sherlock’s avatar, anyway — score seven more points, bringing his total to a round hundred. The thought of Sherlock spending time on crafting a digital lookalike of himself using a Wii console…actually, never mind. It’s not like stranger things haven’t happened ever since he decided to shack up with this ridiculous madman. “Sherlock, you didn’t tell me you liked to bowl.”

“I don’t.”

John cocks his head. “I’m confused.”

“What about?”

“Er.” The bowling, for one, and the video game, for another. And then, perhaps, avatar-Sherlock striding down a virtual bowling alley, and real-Sherlock grinning like he’s discovered the penultimate clue to a triple locked-door mystery. “This,” John says rather lamely, gesturing with the tin of beans. “It’s just that — I guess you’ve never struck me as the video game sort.”

“I’ve found it unexpectedly laudable,” Sherlock says. “See here, how it emulates real-life sport in isolation? As such, I derive all of the instant gratification without pointless _mingling_ of any kind.”

“You don’t like doing things with other people is what you’re saying,” John translates.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

That much doesn’t surprise John. Above all things, Sherlock’s not the most personable of companions, and it takes little to picture him quickly reducing a bowling partner — or anyone, really — to a mess of agitated invectives. A partner who doesn’t have the patience John spent the past year and a half honing, at least. He likes to think that he’s used to Sherlock by now, more or less, and knows enough about dealing with him to keep him in line.

“You know bowling on your own is also a thing, right?” John asks, finally setting the beans down on his armchair table.

“That involves leaving the flat, which, if you remember,” the computerised crowd lets out an _oooh_ when Sherlock’s next throw results in a seven-ten split, “I would very much rather avoid.”

“Fair enough.” John studies the screen with interest as Sherlock tries and fails to pick up the spare. “Reckon you should’ve stood a little more to the left, there.”

The last pin is swept away from the lane, and Sherlock lets out a wistful sigh. “I’m still breaking it in,” he says. “My proficiency is very foundational, as it stands. I expect that once I get used to the gameplay, we should see a considerable improvement within the week.”

“A hundred points on your seventh frame is fairly decent,” John says. “For a beginner, anyway; I mean, it’s not terribly good, but —”

At this, Sherlock shoots him a sideways look. “What would you know about bowling?”

John blinks. “Um. Quite a fair bit, to be honest, considering I have gone bowling before. You know bowling, don’t you, Sherlock? _Actual_ bowling? With balls and scoreboards and everything?”

Sherlock’s nose wrinkles. “Congratulations on putting your feet into shoes a hundred other people have used before. Would you like a medal for that?”

Wanker. “Don’t be smart,” John warns. “I really could show you a thing or two, if you wanted.”

A silence follows in which Sherlock seems to be in deep contemplation of something. Then, with a flourish, he produces another remote and offers it to John, holding it out strap-first.

John stares at the additional controller, bewildered. “Seriously?”

“Show me. If you’re as good as you are implying, I might gleam some useful data on improving my own skills.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like doing things with people,” John says wryly, but he accepts the controller and fastens the strap around his wrist.

“Correction: _most_ people.”

“So, really just everyone except for me, then.”

Sherlock smirks. “Evidently. You do know how to use it, don’t you?”

“Er.” The remote is slim, light and equipped with several marked buttons of unknown functions. It’s not the first time John’s tinkered with a gaming console — they had Playstations in the military, thank you very much — but there’s little to guide him beyond the self-explaining arrow pad. He shrugs and gets to his feet. “How hard could it be? Just point and wave, yeah?”

“I’ll add you to the game,” Sherlock says smoothly, pointing his own remote at the television and tapping a couple of buttons. A pause menu drops down; Sherlock’s cursor makes the appropriate selections to erase his current frames and restart the match with two rows of frames instead of just the one.

“Hold on,” John says. “Shouldn’t I create a character first?”

“Mii.”

“Sorry?”

“Apparently they’re referred to as Miis,” Sherlock replies, not without disdain. “It’s word play. Possibly the lowest form of wit available in marketing.”

“I thought that was sarcasm. Generally speaking.”

Sherlock shrugs it off. “There’s no need for you to create a Mii. I’ve already made one for you.”

“What?”

The character selection menu flips open at Sherlock’s prompting and displays several avatars (Miis?) that are clearly presets. He scrolls to the end, where there are three characters — the Sherlock-Mii _(SH),_ a comically bloated custom _(Miicroft),_ and a short, bespectacled avatar with silvery hair and a small smile _(John Hamish Watson)._

John can’t help but laugh a little, because goodness, it does look like him somewhat. Besides the spectacles, of course, and he wonders about that. “Wow, Sherlock. That’s, um. Something.”

“You can thank me later,” Sherlock says disinterestedly. “Or make changes, if you want. I did that in less than a minute so it might not be an accurate representation of how you’d like to appear in-game.”

“Are we going to talk about how you decided to stick spectacles on me for some reason?” John asks. He swivels his cursor over the avatar and clicks on it, prompting John-Mii to leap up enthusiastically, pumping the air with his tiny fist.

Sherlock’s response is a sly smile of his own. “I just think you’re more attractive with eyewear. That’s all.”

John looks to Sherlock in sardonic amusement, then back at the miniature of himself on the television screen, at how Sherlock envisioned him in virtual reality. “You think so?”

“Yes.” The game flickers a NEW GAME notice across the screen. “Now shut up and bowl.”

John shakes his head and sighs, smiling despite himself and deciding that no, he’s probably not going to modify John-Mii after all. “You realise I’m going to bowl your arse into the ground, right?” _And perhaps start wearing spectacles more often,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. Bugger all if he's going to accept fashion advice from Sherlock with him knowing about it.

“It’s going to be hard to do that when you don’t know which button does what,” Sherlock replies, a little too happily.

This is true, but John only smiles wider. If there’s anything he enjoys more than a challenge, it’s the opportunity to knock Sherlock down a peg or two. “I’ll learn,” he grunts, briefly catching Sherlock's eye before fixing his gaze on the screen. “I’m a fast learner.”

His Mii approaches the alley, and the screen switches to face down-lane.

John holds steady, aims, and _swings._


End file.
